


the very blood of you

by sixplums (sherlezza)



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Animal Instincts, Blood, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), POV Alternating, Scenting, Slow Burn, WIP, i don't know what this is! and i don't know for sure if it will go anywhere!, kind of, uh tags for future chapters if they actually get completed:, we'll see i guess!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 23:27:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17876792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlezza/pseuds/sixplums
Summary: "But I love the very blood of youIt keeps its heat in spite of youOh, the heart that beatsTo keep you here with me always"-Blood, Hozier





	the very blood of you

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is a story that i have a vague large skeleton of and...not much else! It's a fantasy au and will not follow canon almost at all, and it also is currently unbeta'd. I figured if I posted it here, I'll be more accountable for potentially completing it! However, it is a complete WIP and might always be a WIP, so proceed with caution if that bothers you! Oh, and lastly, I have no idea how the Rich Text Editor formatting on here works, so I apologize for formatting issues. Hopefully I'll learn. Love u

Link groaned as he struggled awake, immediately aware of the searing pain in his left leg. He tried to remember the fight—a Lynel, gold and vicious, like none he’d ever encountered before. Why had it been at the riverbank, where monsters so deadly were seldom seen? And why in Hylia’s name had it been so brilliantly, obtrusively…gold?

_Probably_ _not the best time for musing_ , he thought, feeling cool wet stone beneath him. _I should be dead. Why aren’t I dead?_

With great effort, he managed to crack open an eye, which was stiff and crusted with sleep. Or, rather, lengthy unconsciousness—he wasn’t ready to call what he’d just done ‘sleeping’. He certainly didn’t feel rested. In fact, it seemed that every muscle in his body had some complaint, and he had a feeling the cold stone ground beneath him—not to mention the brutal fight—had a lot to do with it.

           He suppressed another groan as he took a mental scan of his body. His head pounded, but he thought a concussion unlikely; he would certainly have some bad bruising, but miraculously nothing seemed broken. The only injury of real concern was the gash on his left thigh, where the Lynel had struck flesh with its enormous curved blade. The wound was deep, and he knew he should be dead for it. He remembered the force of the blow pushing him back towards the river, onto slick and precarious footing by the rocks on the riverbank. He was sure he had fallen in, up near Scout’s Hill where the current grew restless and the water was strong and deep.

_I should have drowned. Or, at the least, I should have died from blood loss while I lay here._

_Here…_

           He sat up suddenly, head protesting at his burst of movement. Where was he? He forced both eyes open wide, trying not to squint even though there was hardly any light to see by. As his vision adjusted, he took in his surroundings: a cavern, the persistent sound of water dripping on stone all around him. To his left, he could see the cave’s entrance, the setting sun illuminating a thin stretch of the wet cave floor in front of him. The river—meandering now, slow but still deep—ran through the center of the stone, disappearing into darkness behind him. He shivered involuntarily as he gazed into that dark tunnel, listening but not seeing the water as it flowed further away into inky blackness. He had never been in a cave so deep; as far as he knew, caves were few and far between in Hyrule, and were generally short and easy to navigate. Not pitch-dark, treacherous, and…creepy.

           He glanced down at himself, and found that although he still had his soaked tunic on, he had somehow lost his trousers, boots, bracer, and—worst of all—his shield, bow, and quiver. His belt, however, with money pouch attached, lay on the rock a few feet to his right. He was even more taken aback to find that his leg was wrapped, though not in any dry bandages or strips of cloth, but in a slimy, foul-smelling riverweed, the type of which was unfamiliar to him. Perhaps he was in an area by the river he had never been? Considering how much he traveled, it seemed unlikely, but then again—so did this entire situation. A large, deep cave that the Hylia River ran through? He’d traveled this area dozens of times on his way to and from the Lake, and he was sure he’d know of a place like this.

_Maybe...maybe it’s a different river? I could be past the Wetlands..._

           He whipped his head around suddenly and examined the river to his left. Had that _plink_ on the water been just the cave dripping, or something bigger? Suddenly the whole situation seemed unbelievably dangerous. What was he still doing here? He needed to get out of here, _now_ ; he could figure out what happened later. But first, he had to get this leg wrap off—hopefully in time to stave off infection. If the smell was any indication, this couldn’t be good for his wound. He shuddered as he brushed his hand along the cut, forcing himself to relax as he began to peel the riverweed away from the gash. The top of the wound, finally exposed, was still open and bloodied, but he was surprised to see that it wasn’t actively bleeding anymore. Instead, there was a strange ring of irritated skin around the edges of the gouge, not directly in the wound, but around it, almost as if sandpaper had been rubbed around the edges—

           “ _NO!”_ He heard a ragged voice exclaim, echoing loudly around the cavern. A sharp gasp came from the river to his left, followed by a torrent of splashing. Link startled, scrambling backward on his hands and feet, reaching instinctively over his shoulder for his bow before realizing that not only was he unarmed, but severely injured; he had no chance of fighting against any threat in his current state. He felt the cold, slick cavern wall at his back.

_Nowhere to hide, either_ , he thought, _though maybe if I keep very still here in the dark…_

           An _immense_ figure was rising from the dark water in front of him. He could hear heavy breathing interspersed with the sounds of water spilling off of the huge form moving slowly towards him. The figure started pulling itself onto the riverbank, but stopped suddenly—as if seeming to think better of it—and slipped back into the water, though it stayed near the river’s edge and continued to pant. He squinted towards it, but couldn’t make out anything beyond a silhouette. That silhouette, though, was enough to make his heart race.

           “I’m…so sorry,” he heard the voice whisper from the dark water. It seemed as if it took a lot of effort for the person—or creature—to speak, and the voice was pained and husky. “It was… _not_ …my intention to frighten you. But please…will you _please_ replace your ferns. It’s for your own safety. I promise—I swear—I will not harm you, or come closer, if you’ll please just cover your wound.”

The voice took a loud, shuddering breath. “Please.”

           Link glanced at the piece of riverweed he had peeled off, lying on the stone about halfway between where he was against the cave wall and the water’s edge. He was surprised to find that the rest of the improvised bandages had stayed on through his wild scramble to the cave wall; he had only lost the one that he’d been peeling away when he’d been startled.

_What_ is _this plant?_ He wondered. _No. No time for questions. I have no reason not to do what they say, and no ability to fight or escape. Best chance of survival is probably to comply._

Slowly—his leg still seared with pain from his earlier movements—he inched towards the fallen weed on hands and knees. As soon as he was within arm’s reach, he snatched it from the cave floor and shuffled quickly back to the false safety of the cave wall. He gingerly smoothed the slimy plant back over the top of his wound, trying not to think about infection, never taking his eyes off the strangely silhouetted head in the river.

“Th-thank you.” The voice spoke as soon as the plant covered his exposed wound, taking a few quick shallow breaths before sighing. “I am truly sorry you had to awaken to this. I thought I finally had things...under control. But then you took your fern off, and I…” the voice faltered. “I’m sorry. This is all so impolite. You must be terrified of me.” Link swore he could hear disappointment, even shame. Another sigh. “May I—Please, allow me to start over. Are you alright?”

He slumped against the cave wall, his adrenaline from the sudden confrontation wearing thin. He didn’t know what to make of the terrifying figure lurking in the water, which was suddenly asking after his health and worrying about niceties. Had he been concussed after all?

_Is this the work of the Great Fairy? Or maybe one of the Skull Kids…_

He had heard stories while traveling, stories of strange deities and wood-dwelling tricksters. He staved off the panic boiling up inside him; he needed information, and he needed a level head. Had this person--or monster--rescued him from the river? The only creatures he knew that could outswim the currents around Scout’s Hill were the Lizalfos, and this certainly didn’t seem like one of _them_. For starters, this creature spoke intelligently, and in the Hylian common tongue. Not to mention the weird penchant for manners. He needed to find out what happened in the river, figure out _where_ he was and _how_ he got here. Then, hopefully, he could find his way back to familiar ground.

_But my thigh…I wouldn’t be able to get back._ His eyes refocused on the figure in the water, still awaiting his answer. _I’m not going anywhere--not without help._

The figure shifted, and Link heard water swirl around in front of him. He caught a glimpse of reflective gold eyes, and he thought he could see curiosity in them, as well as something else—something masked. He looked down into his lap at his wet, grimy hands, and almost laughed at the helplessness of his situation.

_Guess there’s only one way to find out._

Slowly, he moved a little closer to the water, deliberately raising both hands in front of his chest, palms out. An approach and a request; he needed to be able to see the figure better, but he didn’t want them to make any more sudden movements. He still had no idea what he was facing, and his curiosity was starting to win out over his fear. What could have possibly found him—and then saved him—from the river’s undertow, and kept his unconscious body afloat and breathing? Not anything in Hyrule that he knew of. Moving with deliberate caution, he lifted a hand and slapped it twice against the wet stone, pointing at the patch of sunlight at the river’s edge that the figure was staying conspicuously out of. He held a flat hand, palm up, toward the figure, and curled the fingers in one, two, three times.

He was relieved when the figure took a hesitant movement toward the light, understanding his gesture. They stopped just outside the bright ring of sun, sighing again.

“Look, I will come into the light, but if I may offer a…forewarning, perhaps I can help prepare you.” Link could hear blatant anxiety in the figure’s tone, and felt himself tense as he imagined what he was about to face. He could hear the water rush to fill the space left by the large form as it moved in front of him. “Just please…try not to jump to conclusions about…about what I am. I promise, I mean only to aid you…” the voice trailed off weakly as the figure finally moved into the light.

Link finally beheld the figure—his savior, or perhaps his captor—and heard himself exclaim, coming out as a choked-off gasp.

Like all Hylians, he had grown up hearing the stories of the River-dwellers; old myths told by grandmothers about an aquatic race that once lived amongst them. The legends said that the Blood Moon—a phenomenon known to be the work of the Demon King—had coincided with a lunar eclipse, transforming these once-friendly allies into fearsome, bloodthirsty monsters. Since then, Hylians had avoided straying past the Wetlands of Lanayru, where it was said that the River-dwellers still lurked. People occasionally disappeared when traveling, but no one had seen a River-dweller in decades. No one, at least, who had survived to report about it.

And yet, regardless of the fact that Link had never actually _seen_ a River-dweller, he knew instinctively that what he faced now could be nothing else. He registered a head as big as his entire torso, framed by what looked like the pectoral fins of a shark. Yellow-gold eyes watched him from beneath a large crest at the brow, but he was surprised to find that the gaze was more questioning than predatory, even with the unnerving vertical pupils. His eyes flicked to the sharp, decidedly masculine jaw, and then lower to register the swell of a broad chest disappearing into the dark water. He hadn’t remembered the stories ever mentioning that River-dwellers were more than twice the size of Hylians—it seemed like an important detail to omit—but perhaps it was only the males, like the one in front of him. He knew the sheer size of the creature would have put him at a profound disadvantage even had he been armed and prepared to fight. As he was now, injured and groggy, he was at its mercy completely. He felt the familiar buzz of panic set in. He was facing a creature from legends. And yet…he could read distress in the rigidity of the creature’s posture, and something else he recognized in the way he hung his head, never meeting Link’s eyes. _Shame?_

“I can…sense that I have alarmed you. I could think of no better way to introduce myself, and for that—as well as everything else—I am truly sorry.” His voice was softer than Link would’ve thought possible from a being so large, and his expression spoke of real remorse. And beyond that, there was a persistent thought that seemed to push back against the panic.

_If he wanted me dead, I already would be._

**Author's Note:**

> constructive criticism/comments welcome, i'm desperately trying to improve my fiction writing as i practice for my grad program! i've written almost exclusively academically and have little experience in fiction, could always use tips in regards to pacing/characterization/etc. i never intended to write fic for this pairing if i could help myself but it turns out i couldn't so here we both are, huh?


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